There was once a thing called "abortion." It was, as some called it, the slut's best friend. People seem to forget it was also the rape victim's best friend. If a woman got pregnant, they could easily get rid of the accident, also known as an unborn child.
But then it got outlawed. Even using a hanger, like people did before the technology was available, could land you a good fifty years in jail. Instead, of getting an abortion, there is now an alternative.
Same word, completely different meaning.
Now, if a woman gets pregnant, she goes to City Hall. She signs papers. She has the child, and the child is immediately sent to the military, raised as killing machines to battle for our country, Naitre, in what was once called America, against the world.
Because in all honesty, the other countries are against us. It's not that they think that people should feel free to kill children who have never had a chance to live. They just think that the children should go to an orphanage or something. But what's ironic is that when they waged war, they ended up killing the very same children they try to protect. They cause parents to get a letter reading, "Remember that abortion you wanted? Done."
Thus began a thousand year war, The War of the Lost Souls, Ames Perdues.
This leads to me, in charge of a troop of kids, preparing them for their upcoming doom. Because face it. In a world where a child full of anger and rage and pain and sorrow is given a gun, he or she will die, whether by the hands of another or not.
I'm one of the few who make it past the age of ten. And as promised, at the age of sixteen, I lead the next generation of scared, upset who feel they have no place in this world. And that's because they really, truly don't.
I am Des, and I am of the Unborn.